Lawrence S. Pertillar
Smeared With Mud And Smelling Of Fried Chicken
No one clearly appearing from out of the 'blue'...
Smeared with mud and smelling of fried chicken,
Can proclaim an innocence,
Of not being involved in a brawl...
At a backyard bar-b-cue.
To then wish to validate their innocence by saying...
They just arrived from a trip they took to remoted islands.
And they have come to report a case of stolen luggage.
Something in this explanation sounds a bit fishy.
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Comments about this poem (Smeared With Mud And Smelling Of Fried Chicken by Lawrence S. Pertillar )
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